Passing the Torch
by corneroffandom
Summary: Even Heath Slater has moments of uncertainty.


Three matches against Sheamus. The last two had ended by DQ, to Wade Barrett's utter disgust, but this one. He had ate a Brogue Kick and he had lost. Well. It was what it was. But he had fought well, and felt no shame at his loss. If anything, it was just more incentive to try harder the next time he had a chance.

One thing he _did_ remember, however, was Heath Slater's little trio, named 3MB, pulling him to safety just to eat a dive from Sheamus for their troubles. He's still walking off the after effects of that Brogue Kick, when he hears Heath's loud voice rambling to some poor unfortunate soul on the phone, wincing and smirking all at once even as his already throbbing head protests. "Hey, keep it down, will ya?" he snaps, smirk only growing as his former Corre mate looks up from his cell phone, eyes wide.

To his credit, Heath does ease up on the volume some, his excited chatter quickly dying away completely when he ends the call a few minutes later, stretching out leisurely on the bench. "Well, how ya doin', Barrett?" he asks with a faint smirk of his own, brushing his hands along his leather pants. "See the Brogue Kick didn't straighten your nose out any."

Wade's glower holds very little heat to it, well-used to the comments about his nose by now, especially from Slater himself. "And I see having a group of your own now has done next to nothing for your social graces."

Heath rolls his eyes. "Aw, c'mon, they like my social graces just fine. Naw mean?"

Wade snickers at this, unable to stop himself. "Of course, a Punjab who probably can't understand a bit of what you're saying, and Drew, who's just willing to do anything for a minute of TV time."

Heath's exasperation turns to pure annoyance as he glowers at his former leader, leaning forward and pointing at him with one finger. "Better than tryin' to set up a money-for-hire service just to get absolutely no clients, and havin' to move on within two weeks. If that." He sneers as Wade then begins to snarl at him, his expression shifting to a cocky grin after awhile.

"I have to say though, it's smart of your teammates to keep you away from another group name with an R in it. Who knows _how_ you would've spelled that..." he finally mumbles.

Heath huffs. "C'mon man, you're the one who suggested that spellin'!"

"No, I wasn't. The mere fact that you say 'spellin'' is all the proof I need that that misspelling was _definitely_ on your side." He smirks, crossing his arms smugly over his chest as Heath sputters and struggles to think of a proper rebuttal.

"I hate you," he mumbles, looking away with a scowl. Wade says nothing, his smirk only growing as Heath stares blankly at the wall, seemingly ignoring him as the minutes tick by.

The silence starting to annoy the Brit, he finally leans forward and nudges Heath's knee with a boot. "Hey," he says, finally analyzing the look on Heath's face, and not liking the conclusions he's coming to. He almost looks... scared, and definitely looks more than a little uncertain. "What's going on with you? Hmm? My mocking you about things normally fail to get under your skin like this."

He swallows and looks over, tilting his head. "I'm just thinkin'."

"Well, this shouldn't take long then to suss out." When Heath glares at him, a little of the fire returning to his gaze, he holds a hand up in apology. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry, I'll stop. What are you thinking about?"

"3MB."

"What about them?" he asks, shifting to a more comfortable position, certain that whatever's rattling about in Slater's mind would be amusing, if not at least a little entertaining. It usually is in one way or another, after all.

"Being a leader," is the low response, the look on Heath's face surprising Wade about as much as his tone of voice. The usually self-assured voice sounds a little shaky, his eyes lowered as he stares at his hands which are currently tangled around his leather pants. Before Wade can say anything else, he looks back up, eyes narrowing slightly as he examines the man. "How'd you know you'd be a good leader with Nexus? Or even the Corre?"

He laughs, startling Heath. "Oh please," he snorts. "I didn't. And I wasn't, in retrospect." At the look of shock on his former teammate's face at his claiming so, he smirks. "Even I can admit my mistakes now and again, Slater."

Heath nods slowly, licking his lips. "Ok. Ok then." Staring at his hands a moment, he takes a breath. "So if you could do anything differently from the time that you were leader- for either group- what would it be?" It's a weird question to ask, Heath feeling awkward once the words have left his lips, but even so he locks eyes with his former leader as he waits for the response, squaring his shoulders as he waits for whatever the aftermath may end up being. He had been a member of both groups, by Wade's side longer than anyone other than Justin, and he can't even imagine what all Wade could say, what's lingering beneath the thoughtful look on the Brit's face.

The answer surprises him, however. More so because of the sincerity he can see in the intense gaze leveled at him. "Nothing."

Heath blinks, shaking his head in confusion. "What?"

Wade smirks at his dumbfounded expression. "I said nothing, you silly ginger git." A pregnant pause between the two men is only broken when the Brit clears his throat. "Look at it this way. I am moving closer to becoming World Champion... Most of the other members of the original Nexus have all found their own levels of success in the business. And you..." He chuckles as Heath looks up at him warningly. "Well, you're getting there. In any event, you seem content with where you're at right now. Yes?"

"'Course," he shrugs. "TV time, the leader of my very own band... why wouldn't I be content?"

"The look in your eye, maybe," Wade says. "Out with it, Slater. Why are you asking me these things?"

He sighs, scraping his fingers through his orange hair. No one could read him as well as Barrett, and it leaves him feeling vulnerable and almost silly. "I'm just worried it's gonna fail," he mutters. "When I was a one-man band, or even when I was in Nexus or the Corre, it was either just me out there fendin' for myself or the responsibility wasn't solely on my shoulders. But now, if 3MB fails, it doesn't just affect me. It'll affect Drew and Jinder too."

"We all take that risk with what we do," the former Nexus leader muses. "No point in letting it paralyze you. You're giving it your all, right?"

"Course I am!" he cries out, almost indignant. "Can't you tell? This is the most opportunity I've gotten since Corre disbanded, I'm not about to waste it."

"Then don't second guess it. If you can honestly look back in even a month or two and say that you did all you could, then it won't fail. I can reflect and admit that neither Nexus nor Corre was a complete failure, because look where it led all of us. We're all where we belong, I feel. These things, Slater, give us the experience to move on to other things, better things. Who knows how long exactly your little... trio... will last, but it'll more likely than not give you, McIntyre and Mahal the exposure you need for the future, whatever that may bring."

He takes a breath, his redhot temper easing as he thinks over his former leader's insight. "Yeah, you're right. As long as we ride this wave as far as it takes us, then everything'll work out." Deciding to go find his fellow 3MB mates and discuss their plans for Survivor Series, he hesitates at the door. "Hey, thanks, Wade." Unsurprised by the lack of response that follows this, he exits the locker room, feeling a good deal lighter.

Shaking his head, Wade chuckles slightly, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. "You'll be just fine, you silly ginger git."


End file.
